


Don't Watch Bad Movies

by RussianWitch



Category: Mortal Kombat (1995), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Felching, Figging, Gags, Gen, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, No Idea, Pre-Slash, Slice of Life, Spanking, Wet & Messy, What Have I Done, the usual, this needed out of my brain, will sort tags out on next chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-24 05:37:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2570117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Movie night leads to revelations.<br/>Derek is an opportunistic fanboy.<br/>And it kind of takes off from there...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta'd 
> 
> Well this taught me not to watch old B-movies...because plotbunnies...sob.
> 
> This sort of grew out of the following:
> 
> What if Sheriff Stilinski (And seriously does the man still not have an official first name????) was Johnny Cage who after the movie came back, hooked up with Sonya and the both of them went into hiding in Beacon Hill after Sonya became pregnant?  
> Stiles finds out when he organizes a movie night for the pack and they recognize the lead of one of them.  
> It also turns out that Derek was a huge Johnny Cage fan when he was a kid and hasn't exactly recovered from his teenage crush.
> 
> Btw if anyone wants it they can have the bunny I'll even throw in a couple of carrots.

" Daaaaad ?" It's a miracle Stiles doesn't give himself whiplash the way he looks down at the DVD, up at John and back again his eyes growing progressively wider. Next to him Scott is gaping like a goldfish and the rest of the lot have gone suspiciously quiet. John just wants to sink through the ground, or possibly have a convenient portal open up and take him away because: he's never planned for this.

"Can we just not? Put that away and we'll talk about it—later." He tries desperately.

"But daaaad ! You're—" Of course it doesn't work, Stiles barrels on regardless of the amount of grey hairs he's giving his father. "Did mom know?" He narrows his eyes suspiciously and John allows himself a sigh.

"Of course your mom knew! How do you imagine her marrying me without knowing what I do for a living?" Or without mercilessly making fun of him for it. God, he still misses her even all these years later she'd know how to handle this.

"I don't know, but considering you've managed to hide  being an— _actor_ — for sixteen years and how is that even possible with the internet?" They both wince at the title because really, he'd made movies, calling it acting would have been a stretch even if he'd had fun doing it.

"I used a screen name." Internally wincing at the weak explanation he looks at the adults for help. Chris is looking as unreadable as ever even if John knows that he's probably laughing on the inside, Melissa doesn't bother even pretending any self control, she's on the couch howling with laughter flanked by bemused girls while Peter slinks closer squinting at the DVD box over Stiles' shoulder making John itch to warn him away from his son. The only person not indulging in any of the dramatics seems to be Derek who's sitting quietly in the chair he picked upon entering and staring at the beer in his hands.

"Oh come on you can't just—!" Stiles' whine is interrupted by Peter's howl of laughter.

"Oh my! I knew you were familiar for some reason sheriff. Derek here—" Peter ignores the warning growl coming from his nephew's direction, "—used to have quite a crush! I remember—" He doesn't get to finish whatever he was about to say as Derek jumps out of his chair and power walks out of the room ignoring the questions called after him. "—well that was just rude." The sadistic wolf huffs now that his victim has escaped looking around for someone else to bother until he eventually settles on Chris who looks surprisingly alright with that.

"Stiles!" Grabbing the DVD out of his kid's hands before Stiles can start up again John commands,"We are not talking about it tonight! You're all settling down and watching something else. We'll talk tomorrow without the peanut gallery!" Stiles opens his mouth to argue, but for once he snaps it shut again nodding once and John is grateful to have such a smart kid. The rest of them are still staring and as much as he'd have enjoyed the attention a long, long time ago he can't stand it now. Grabbing his beer John retreats to the kitchen with a final glare towards Melissa who's finally quieted down but is still letting out the occasional giggle.  As soon as he is out of the room the murmur of voices starts up again and John makes a conscious effort not to listen in. The back door is open, and even with a beer in hand habit makes him go out and check. 

Derek is standing in the middle of the yard looking up at the cloudless sky. For once John remembers that the wolf isn't much older than the rest of the kids, not quite the adult he pretends to be.

"You okay, son?" He questions softly wondering why Derek ran away instead of snapping back at Peter as he usually does. He is faintly amused when the wolf jumps twisting around startled, his eyes glowing in warning. John waits for Derek to check that everything is indeed still fine and regain his composure. 

"Yeah, it was getting a bit—" He shrugs and John wonders if he's hearing things because it almost sounds like Derek is...embarrassed.

"Loud? Yeah, sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't have invested in a gag or two a long time ago." He laments taking a swing on his beer to hide his amusement at Derek's eyes growing round. "Oh come on, I suspect everyone who's met Stiles thought that!" The laugh that escapes Derek is a marvel, it starts as a soft huff that tears itself free as the wolf fights to keep it in, then escalates to a full belly laugh that has Derek bending in half and wiping his face.

"There, there—" He pets a shaking shoulder awkwardly wondering if he shouldn't be getting a bag for Derek to breathe into or something. "Look, you know better than me that your uncle will use any excuse to stir up trouble. Half of them probably didn't even register what he said." Removing his hand once he feels Derek stiffening under it at his words, John steps back regretting bringing it up again. He's never been good at the 'emotion thing' not really, the only comfort there had always been that Claudia had always been worse especially when she couldn't shoot her problems.

"But you heard—" Straightening up Derek sets his jaw and John feels a stirring that, well he already knew that he was spending too much time with hormonal teenagers.

"Yes, well it's not like no one but you has had an inappropriate crush or two when they were young." Or old for that matter, or any age in between for that matter as much as he hates to admit it. "If you're that embarrassed, I could always lock Peter up for a night or two for unpaid parking tickets or something." He offers knowing that he'll probably not manage that, but at least it gets another laugh  out of the wolf.

"I think Chris would object." Derek says and they both grimace at the thought.

"So, I wasn't seeing things." He concludes wondering how long it will take for Chris to admit to doing...something with the psychotic werewolf.

"They smell like each other. It's disturbing." His...well not _his,_  wolf complains, "At least it keeps Peter from killing anyone." He argues  plaintively, like he's trying to convince himself. 

"God, I can't imagine knowing things like that about everyone within range." He thanks his lucky starts that he doesn't know everything  about his kid, or Melissa for that matter their friendship had been a delicate thing for such a long time that enchanted senses could have killed it off several times over the years. 

"You get used to it, I can ignore it mostly it's just—" He grimaces again, "Sometimes It's tempting to—" Derek steps closer and John's pulse jumps, he's only human after all and slightly buzzed from having had a couple...The wolf lunges  and John doesn't even get the chance to raise his hand to ward him off before Derek buries his face in the crook of John's neck. Hot breath makes him shiver, Derek sniffs loudly and John ignores how that isn't as ominous a sound as it should be.

"Derek—" He questions softly not sure what's happening in the wolf's brain.

"You don't smell disgusted." Derek notes pulling away, but not stepping back. 

"What should I be disgusted about exactly?" He wonders distracted by how warm Derek is up close, far warmer than a normal human being the reason he can get away with the damn James Dean imitation leather jacket of his at all times of the years.

"A guy having a crush on you—" He has to tell himself that Derek's use of the present tense doesn't mean anything. Whatever the wolf is aiming for, it can't be...

"Wouldn't be the first one, probably—I always tried to take the compliment as intended." 

"Yeah?" Derek's eyes flare bright blue again and John can't help remembering that he's alone and unarmed with a predator. This time when Derek lunges, he doesn't go for John's throat.

The kiss is forceful , demanding entry to John's mouth, Derek's stubble scratches John's skin leaving it raw. Derek whines softly and the sound breaks John's resolve to resist. His hand is in the young man's hair without his permission jerking Derek away so John can get a good look at the wolf's face. What he sees is lust and stubbornness with a bit of worry that starts dissolving as soon as John leans in to nip at Derek's bottom lip. Damning himself for a fool, he takes control of the kiss tasting the young man who happily allows the exploration surging into the touch until John finds that the young man is practically climbing him like a tree. 

When he finally pushes Derek away a while later, his dick stirs when the wolf licks his lips chasing the last of John's taste. "Derek—son—I—"

"Thanks John, I've been wanting to do that since forever." Derek's customary somber expression disappears for a moment and John marvels at the wide grin that lights up the wolf's face. 

"You're just as insane as the rest of them aren't you?" John sighs, "And here I was counting on at least one person with common sense—" 

"Well you did suspect me of murder." He points out stealing John's beer and taking a sip.

"Don't remind me! It's fortunate that people around here are oblivious or I'd be fired, again." He takes the beer back taking another a swing and nudging Derek towards the kitchen door. 

"What made you stop? I remember that last movie you made—" John winces leaning against the wall next to the door not yet willing to face his son again.

"I got a lot of flack for that from people, Claudia wasn't too happy and—other parties. That movie got made because I needed one last major payday to disappear and writing that script seemed like the easiest way to accomplish that. Claudia was pregnant with Stiles, and she didn't want the publicity —" 

"Wait you wrote that yourself? Why didn't you just go on writing or do a book or something?" He can't help snorting at the overenthusiastic  questions.

"Because I'm really not that creative and there is no way in hell I'm doing that again, not that I'm eligible—" He summarizes dryly watching Derek's eyes widen with realization and his jaw drop. "You're a werewolf, is it really that much of a stretch to inter-dimensional fighting tournaments?"

"But—I've never heard  anything about—" Derek sniffs and John rolls his eyes cuffing the wolf on the back of his head.

"Funny, I never heard  about werewolves until my son got himself possessed." The wolf has the decency to duck his head and shrug.

"At least werewolves make sense." Derek grumbles crowding John into the wall to try for another kiss. John's common sense tells him to push the wolf away, tell him 'no' and that while he's flattered this isn't a good idea. Unfortunately his dick reminds him how long he hasn't gotten laid. 

"If you say so, son." He sighs remembering that calling the kid 'son' isn't the smartest thing he can do under the circumstances. Derek doesn't pull away and John's hands find their way onto the young man's hips, and while John is too busy getting kissed again find their way onto the wolf's muscular ass. Of course that's how Melina finds them bounding into the kitchen and peeking out of the back door.

"STILES! YOUR DAD IS MOLESTING DEREK IN THE BACK YARD!" She howls before they can untangle themselves and stop her bounding back into the living room to share in case the rest of them haven't heard. 

"WHAT?" Comes the answering howl and John buries his face in Derek's shoulder. "DAAAAD WHAT'S GOI—" Stiles' scream is cut off by something and John is pretty sure a scuffle has started.

"Where is a nice murder or supernatural creature when you need one." Someone starts an argument inside, and John is pretty sure that someone else is laughing again. Derek just huffs and pats him on the shoulder not so comfortingly.

"We can go back to the loft, there is no one there—" He offers and John's eyebrows rise.

"Did you just proposition me?" Derek shrugs, the indignant sounds from inside the house increase, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Damn it all to hell:  he's always been bad with being baited, and it hasn't gotten better with age. 

"Let's go, before Stiles manages to escape whatever they've managed to do to restrain him." John's decision is rewarded by one of Derek's brilliant grins as they peal away from the wall and circle the house to escape through the side gate. They get to Derek's car before the first twinge of guilt sets in and John can't help looking back.

"Look, John, if you aren't sure—" Derek starts in his usual tone, through the front window John can see a pile of bodies in front of the television with Peter standing over them taking pictures with his phone. Melissa is obviously yelling at them from the couch and Chris is looking right back at him. John is ready to call the whole thing off and go back in to start sorting out the mess when Chris grins and shakes his head. 

For once John decides to allow himself to take the chance, there are two adults present watching over the kids (three really but he refuses to count Peter) and Derek... He opens the car door with a tight smile, stops thinking and ducks inside. Derek slips in as well, puts the key in the ignition then impulsively leans rewarding John with a sloppy kiss. Just before they speed out of the street John sees Stiles pelt out of the house in their direction probably yelling something. 

He relaxes into the comfortable seat reaching over resting a hand on Derek's shoulder ignoring the wolf going over the speed limit. 


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up often takes everything John's got, even when he's had a full night of sleep. The added bonus this time is not being able to remember exactly _where_ he's sleeping, and why there is a furnace draped across him...With a huff of air against his breastbone John remembers. Pretty green eyes blinking up at him sleepily when John opens his eyes, before Derek gives John a blinding smile then slowly disappears under the sheet.

All John can do is lie back and...a stubble covered cheek brushing against his dick makes him jump and grab the shape under the sheet. Somehow he manages to get Derek by the scruff, and drag the sheet off the grinning wolf who just tried to scrape the skin off his dick. "Do you want to play?" He grates, and the wolf's eyes go hazy with lust. Despite being held firm, Derek manages to nod arching into John's grip.

John doesn't waste time dragging the young man forward and pushing him over onto his back. On impulse he rolls to his knees, and straddles the wolf's chest gratified to see Derek's mouth fall open at once. This, this isn't something John does..., but there is something about Derek the way he looks up at John: opens himself up, that John can't resist taking. On impulse he tangles their fingers together, brings Derek's arms up and pins them above the wolf's head shuffling forward until his balls are only inches away from Derek's lips. "Keep your hands where they are." He orders, voice thick and scratchy with lust, and Derek gives him a sharp nod going mostly pliant.

When John looks over his shoulder, some parts of the younger man are very rigid indeed: the wolf's dick twitches under scrutiny, a drop of clear liquid welling at the tip. John reaches back to swipe the pre-come off, and lick his fingers clean. "Not bad." He concludes, making Derek twitch and whine raising his head off the pillow in an attempt to get at John's dick in return.

Taking himself in hand, John brushes the head of his dick along the wolf's lips shuddering as Derek's breath tickles along his skin, the wolf's lips nipping at his flesh lightly. "Lick." He whispers, and Derek's tongue slides out obediently to wrapping around the head of his dick licking sloppily.

"Good boy." Escapes John. The words of praise are greeted with more firm licks along his flesh that leave John panting and ready for more. Cupping Derek's jaw, John presses against the hinge, making Derek open wider, before slowly guiding himself into the hot cavern. Derek moans around him sending the sound vibrating up John's nerves, making him lose control and thrust forward too soon, too deep, gagging the young man taking him in. John tries to pull away as soon as he realizes, but Derek's muffled whine stops him half way out of the wolf's mouth. "Do you _want_ to get your throat fucked, Derek?" He asks carefully, tracing the young man's brow with his thumb as he watches Derek think, sweat itching down his back at the thought of being allowed _that_.

The previous night had been slow and easy: friendly for the lack of a better word. John had enjoyed exploring, and being explored in turn, having someone gasping and moaning under his hands, coming because of _him._ The male body was new and exciting all on its own, and John felt lucky to be allowed to enjoy it. There had been smiles and moans, Derek happily giving into him and giving him pleasure. It had been too long since that had happened, since John had taken the luxury of time to take a lover apart. Both of them had been starved for physical contact, had gorged themselves on each other with careful touches and sloppy licks that left them falling asleep next to each other sated and content. The night before, John would never have thought Derek would want to be ordered to suck cock, or not to move and yet here they are...doing something far more heady and almost forbidden than touching and tasting and yet essentially the same.

John shouldn't be doing this without talking with Derek first, shouldn't be doing this with a kid whom he barely knows. "Yeessss." The wolf slurs around his flesh, raising his head to swallow John down until he feels Derek's nose brush his pubic hair. "You'll be the death of me—" John gasps, barely managing to swallow the habitual 'son' before it leaves his mouth. Adding _that_ to allowing a man half his age to take him to bed, isn't something he'll ever be ready for no matter how much just the thought of what Derek's reaction _might be_ if he uses that word makes his balls tighten.

He grabs the wolf by the hair, forces Derek's head back down onto the pillow ignoring the protests, then shifts his weight bracing against the headboard and fucks down into the tight but welcoming throat. Both of them groan at the sensation, the rush of it when John sets a rhythm sliding in and out of Derek's throat, watching the wolf's lips swell and darken as they work his shaft, saliva coating his cheeks and chin making them glisten. John pulls out completely just to see Derek pant and whine, can't resist teasing the young man by holding himself just out of reach until the wolf is practically sobbing with need, making Derek work for every lick he gets.

"So pretty—" Hazy green eyes look up at him all of a sudden, surprisingly aware considering, and still hungry. He strokes himself slowly, letting pre-come drip down onto Derek's face, watches how the young man strains to lick up the mess until John can't stand to wait any longer. Filling Derek's mouth again, he feels seconds away from losing his mind, or blowing his load. "Make me come, s—, boy." He fumbles for words, but they doesn't really matter: once he can reach, Derek sucks like his life is depending on it, as if John isn't choking off his oxygen every time he loses himself in the sensation.

He watches Derek's hands tighten and release: claw at the air but don't move an inch, Derek's eyes  locked with his, not looking away for a second. On impulse, John pulls out as he feels his orgasm start letting the first strains of come paint the wolf's face. He reaches down, rubbing his come into Derek's cheek as he allows the wolf to nurse on his dick until it becomes too sensitive to handle it any longer.

Even as he slumps to the side, Derek remains unmoving: hard and trembling with the need to come, but waiting for John's orders. He can't let the boy suffer, not that way, so John curses not having the stamina of youth and grabs the wolf: pulls him closer until Derek is lying half on top of him in an untidy mess, one leg slotted between John's.

The wolf shakes, burying his face in the crook of John's shoulder, dick hot and slick against John's thigh. John fills his hands with the muscular globes of Derek's ass, squeezes them gently and pulls propelling the young man into movement. "I want you to rub off on my leg, baby. Want to feel you coming all over me." He feels Derek's hips stutter and speed up at his words, feels more than hears a growls against his throat as Derek does as he's told. "Show me how much you liked having your throat fucked, son." The word escapes before John can sensor himself, but Derek just growls and speeds up: slotting his dick in the crease between John's thigh and torso, panting hotly against John's throat as his hips work in his quest for pleasure.

The wolf is a mess already: dirty with sweat and come, rubbing it all onto John's skin as he drips on John's hip. He kneads, the tight ass clutched in his hands, digging his nails in to spur Derek on, eager to feel the wolf make an even bigger mess out of the both of them. "Come for me, Derek!" John growls, dragging the young man's head up by the hair to lick into his mouth, raises his leg, making Derek work a little harder, and soon enough feels wetness streak his abdomen as the wolf growls into his mouth dropping on top of him like a ton of bricks. Looking down John sees a hell of a lot more hair and a hint of blue glow around Derek's eyes for a moment, before it disappears. That hadn't happened the previous evening either, but he's too content to ask. They are going to be stuck together by the time John regains the energy needed to get up and go look for the shower, he's sure of it. Derek stirs first giving him a grin better suited for a cat left alone in a bird store.

"That was—unexpected." He finds himself musing combing his fingers through Derek's hair that's standing out in weird clumps from all the manhandling.

"You didn't like it?" The wolf asks cautiously, and John can practically see him pulling away already: something John isn't going to stand for. Pulling the younger man back, he takes a kiss before answering keeping it going until it is hesitantly returned. "Probably liked it more than I should have—considering—"

"Considering what?" Derek frowns up at him, but doesn't look like he's going to try and get away again, so John chalks up a win.

"Considering I haven't don't any of that with a man before, and we haven't exactly talked about—" He's silenced with a gentle kiss that leaves John distracted for several minutes before he managing to wrench himself away, and tap a sharp cheekbone reproachfully. "Don't think you're going to get away with those tactics for long!" He grouses, wincing when Derek sits up, unsticking their skin.

"What are you going to do?" The suddenly cheery wolf asks, "Spank me?"

Derek Hale did not just wiggle his bare ass at John, he must be hallucinating. Only, then he's picked up from the bed like he weighs nothing, put on his feet, and propelled in the general direction of what's probably the bathroom. "Damn it, Derek!" He curses over his shoulder, but the wolf just shrugs poking him in the ribs to keep John moving. "There is nothing to talk about: you liked it, I liked it and—"

"I could have hurt you!" John interjects.

"Werewolf." Derek reminds him, as if John could forget. "Without actual weapons, you can't really do anything to hurt me." He wolf argues placidly, grabbing a couple of towels along the way.

"Not the point." John finally braces in the doorway of the bathroom, refusing to budge until Derek nuzzles against the back of his neck.

"Will you do it again if we have this 'talk'?" He nips at John's ear, and he can't resist leaning against the solid body behind him.

"I've never even had sex with a man before." John reminds him.

The wolf huffs his amusement against John's skin. "You're doing fine."

Somehow Derek slips past him to turn the water on in the ridiculously large shower. Giving up for the moment, John follows him in trying not to get distracted by the way the wolf looks with water running over his body. "You're disturbingly rational." He finds himself accusing the younger man who doesn't bother to hide his amusement any longer. "I have my moments. Look John, I—" He steps closer, noses along John's jaw until he relents and pulls the wolf close. The kiss turns soft and exploratory: Derek teasing him gently until John finds himself taking control, pushing the wolf against the chilly tiles, pinning him against the wall not really surprised to feel the wolf's renewed arousal against his hip.

John gives up, deciding to save his agonizing for a later date when he isn't deliberately getting distracted by a beautiful, naked young man who's offering himself up for him to experiment on. Dropping to his knees John licks his lips studying the eager, swollen flesh, and Derek moans: his hips twitching without John having done a thing. The prospect of cocksucking is slightly daunting, but he never did back away from a challenge and isn't planning on starting down.


	3. Chapter 3

Staring morosely at his coffee cup, John wonders what he's ever done to the universe to deserve—well it isn't all bad, but it isn't normal either. There are bound to be other people with similar problems, some of them at least like dealing with a werewolf pack in his city, but since he doesn't know any of them...Chris slides into the booth, startling John from trying to divine his future in the coffee, waving at the waitress for his own cup before giving John a smirk. "You look like you had a fun night. The kids are fine, again, by the way: Melissa can be terrifying when she wants to be." 

"I shouldn't have—" Chris snorts into his coffee, making John wonder why he's surrounded by people who actively encourage—things. Somehow the one-off, turned into a two-off, then a three-off, and it became a  _regular_  thing despite his son's vocal protests. 

"You're not helping." He grumbles resentfully. "How long did it take for Stiles to calm down?" He doesn’t add "this time" because his kid has made over-dramatic into an art form by now. John half expects to be locked in the bathroom one of this days in a last ditch effort to keep him from going over to Derek's. "He was supposed to?" The hunter questions. "Lydia threatened him—" He shrugs, and yeah, if John has learned anything from suddenly dealing up close and personal with the wolf pack and hangers on is that some of the teenagers of Beacon Hills can be terrifying even without fangs and claws. 

"I had a text demanding curly fries, and 'family talk time' whatever that means." It's vaguely disconcerting, considering he's the adult in the family.

"Whatever he demands on account of the trauma say 'no'." Chris tells him bluntly sounding like he's talking from experience. "Are you still training?" Chris changes the subject abruptly enough that John almost gets whiplash still absorbed in contemplating all the demands Stiles could possibly make as payback for John's impulsivity and well, his father screwing one of his friends. Somehow it's a surprise how long it's taken for anyone to ask, or maybe not, considering Melissa more of less knew since she'd been the one to babysit Stiles all the nights he'd spend at the gym going through the familiar motions again and again until he couldn't see straight, much less think.

"Training?" He parrots absentmindedly, wondering what to do if his kid demands he don't do  _that_  ever again..."JOHN!" Chris looks all too amused, rapping the table with his knuckles.

"What? No, not much just the basic stuff." He lies by habit, only Chris doesn't look like he's buying it. "Fine, yes, with some of the deputies I took up training them to keep— busy." Because the alternative had been crawling in the bottle and staying there, and he couldn't do that with Stiles needing at least one parent. Understanding blooms behind Chris' eyes, but he doesn't say anything, John figures that there isn't much to be said on the subject anyway.

"So how good  _are_  you?" Chris asks eyes lighting up with something like challenge.

"Good enough." Is all that John is willing to commit to. Not as good as he once was, better than most people. Cockiness is for the young, he reminds himself, not for middle aged small town sheriffs.

"You should come around to the range, practice after hours." He doesn't exactly state a challenge, but John isn't stupid and Chris can take care of himself so he nods his thanks. "So, Peter demanded all the dirty details—" John can just imagine, including the obnoxious grin. "I'm not going to ask, just keep in mind that amazingly enough somewhere in Peter's twisted brains he's very attached to what little family he has." 

"And he show it by asking about his nephew's sex life?" John can't help asking.

"It's Peter." Chris shrugs as if that explains everything. Granted, it explains  _some_  things, and John has gotten used to most of the oldest wolf's crazy over the months since the whole mess dropped into his lap. "You're a braver man than I." Somehow, despite having suspected Derek of being a murderer at one point, John can't find it in him to be nervous about the younger man. He can't imagine being able to close his eyes while Peter is in the same house, never mind the same bed. Considering that Chris looks better than he has in months, the hunter doesn't have the same problem.

"We have an understanding." Chris' smile is all teeth, and John curses his fertile imagination.

"I have to ask—" 

"Not about Peter." The hunter warns him at once, but John is already waving away just the thought of it.

"No! Well, not specifically, werewolves in general more like. Derek—changes?" The glowing eyes are really hard to miss, and if he's honest with himself neither are the fangs.

"They do that," Chris answers, "Did he scratch you?" John doesn't realize that Chris has tensed at his question, until the hunter relaxes again.

"No—?" Because Derek prefers to  _be_  scratched, and John isn't ready to shame  _that_  little bit of information.

"Strong emotions, having their senses overloaded by something: it makes them lose control of their animal sides. He got a bit furry?" It almost doesn't click why Chris got twitchy all of a sudden, but John isn't an idiot.

"That's—one hell of an STD." He's far too old to be adapting to—"Do they actually grow tails?" The look Chris gives him, needs a ton of disinfectant. "It's a valid question!" He defends, because John would prefer to know things like that upfront. 

"Some of them: the alpha's can turn full wolf, they have tails then, betas usually don't, and shouldn't you be asking Derek?"

John leans back with a huff. "I—" He probably  _should_  be asking Derek, but somehow putting all the stupid questions he has to Chris, is easier. "Did I mention that I have no idea what I'm doing?" He finally moans, wondering if acting like a teenager is contagious.

"Who does? I'm told to 'just enjoy it'." John really needs better friends or at least people who can give better advice.

"That advise better  _not_  be from your crazy boyfriend." It's gratifying to see Chris wince at the word, and commits to using it regularly: preferably in Peter's hearing range.

"If it came from Peter, the advice would be far more graphic." There is something in Chris' tone that has warning flares go off on his head, but the hunter waves him off before he can get the question out. "Don't overthink it, John. The way things have been going lately, take happiness where you can find it." 

"Says the man who isn't following his own advice." He watches Chris flinch, and wonders how much history he isn't aware off that's still floating around.

"I'm fine." It's a subject that's clearly closed, so John finishes his coffee and pulls up his phone to see which shifts he's working the coming week.

"I can probably make it—Wednesday, midweek is always quiet." The weekend would probably be better, but he always prefers to be on duty on the high risk days.

"Bring Derek, he can help." That's—debatable since Derek has a habit of working out without his shirt, and being downright distracting while doing so. "Tell him to wear a shirt." With a curse, John gets himself out of the booth, and stalks off in a huff leaving Chris with the bill.

The hunter's advice percolates at the back of his brain for the rest of the day. He isn't even surprised to find himself sitting outside of Derek's building instead of in his own driveway once he's done, wondering if he shouldn't have called ahead. John is still thinking about it, when his side window is blocked by a set of by now very familiar, very naked abs. When he rolls his window down, John is assaulted by the scent of woods and male. There is a leaf in Derek's disheveled hair that he plucks out on reflex much to the younger man's amusement. "Is there a problem, officer?" John snorts, shoving him out of the window and opening the car door. "I'll give you a problem!" He grouses, taking hold of sculptured hips, and licking sloppily across hard muscle after a quick glance around for witnesses. "Promise?" The evil wolf growls practically dragging him out of the car, yet somehow managing to end up getting pinned against the side of it. "I should be arresting you for public indecency." John groans, restraining Derek's arms behind his back without much of a fight. Holding the wolf's wrists one handed, John gives into the temptation to grope his fill: hand comfortably hidden between the car and Derek's bulk. The young man groans his approval, wiggling back shamelessly. John hadn't even planned on swing by, but now all he can think of is sinking into Derek's hot, tight ass. "Inside,  _now_."  He growls, nipping at Derek's ear as he steps away.

Derek keeps his wrists crossed in the small of his back even without being held as he regally stalks towards the apartment front door, waiting patiently for John to open it and guide him inside and up a flight of stairs to the industrial elevator. As Derek takes the steps, the loose sweatpants that barely clung to Derek's hips already, slide down a little baring the top of the young man's ass to John's hungry gaze framed enticingly by the upper strap of a jock. Pretty sure the chance of getting caught is minimal, John hooks his fingers in the waistband of the sweatpants and gives a little tug baring the tight globes. Derek hollows his back, raises his ass higher smirking over his shoulder... and John's hand lands right in the center of the offered ass, the sound of it connecting ringing out for a long time, mingling with a pornographic moan Derek lets out his hips stuttering as the sweatpants stretch noticeably.

It's a mercy that the elevator comes to a stop at that moment, and John has to busy himself with lifting the grate. Derek saunters to his front door leaning against the brick wall and giving John an inviting smile, his arms still behind his back. "It isn't locked, sheriff." Taking way too much pleasure in John's title, looking like he's  savoring  the word. Jerking the door open, John motions him to get inside only to get a head shake in return. "Derek—" He warns, but obviously the wolf is feeling playful. The younger man turns his back, presenting his arms and John almost swallows his tongue because there have been insinuations, and he's accepted that Derek gets off on being told what to do in bed, when to get off, but he hadn't followed through on his threats to restrain the wolf so far and here Derek, practically  _demanding_  he do it. It feels like all oxygen disappears around them, his hands shaking as he fumbles the handcuffs from his belt and clamps them around the proffered wrists. "Jooooohhhhnnn—" Derek moans, a whole body shudder running down his spine.

"That's not very respectful." John's voice has turned gravely, his mouth dry as dust and his skin feeling fever hot. He grabs the wolf by his bound wrists, pushes his arms up until Derek has no choice but to bend over and allow himself to be guided further into the room until John can drop on the couch positioning Derek between his legs for a better look. By now, there is a dark spot on the strained material of Derek's pants, when John reaches out to caress the ample bulge his fingers close around slimy fabric and hot flesh. "Oh god—" He claws the pants down leaving the wolf in just the jock-strap protecting his none-existing modesty that's clinging to his hard flesh like second skin. To see Derek affected so much by what they are doing, or maybe just the cuffs, he pushes the thought away and leans forward to lick across the soaked fabric. "Quite a mess you've made there, son." He croaks licking his lips as he looks up. "Think we need to do something to keep it from happening again?" He cups a firm cheek, kneading the muscle until Derek manages to answer. "Yes, sir." He forces out, sneakily pushing into John's grip. "Good boy, now let's get you out of that messy jock." 

The wolf has to brace on John's shoulders as he slides the soaked pouch off his hips balling it up then pulling Derek down so he can brush the mess against his mouth. "Open up, son." He orders gently, kind of expecting Derek to refuse instead of opening up to fill his mouth with the slimy fabric. "Good boy." He slides his hand up and down the younger man's dick in reward making sure not to excite him too much. "Now to make sure you remember not to make such a mess in the future." He pats his thigh, and instantly has a lap full of wolf raising his ass for the spanking Derek has been teasingly hinting about wanting pretty much since day one. The wolf moans around the fabric in his mouth in anticipation squirming as he works to balance himself with his arms behind his back.  John doesn't bother giving warning: Derek's only clue is John taking his hand off the young man's skin. The wolf wiggles, his howl muffled by the jock-strap filling his mouth but as John finds his rhythm he keeps raising his ass into the blows. The firm globes don't color that much, the wolf's healing taking care of it before the skin can turn bright red and hot, but John doesn't mind. Just watching the way Derek reacts to the blows, feeling how the dick trapped between his thighs jumps, twitches and leaks enough to soak through John's pant leg.

Settling into a rhythm would be meditative if it wasn't for his dick aching from the sigh, and the feel of Derek squirming in his lap. Everything but the need to force as many dirty sounds out of Derek's mouth drops away, even the confusion about them and the irritation that'd still nagged at him regarding one of his cases...there is nothing but Derek and the ache in his hand from the hard blows. He isn't sure why he eventually stops, maybe something in the way Derek tenses, maybe because if he doesn't John's going to come in his pants for the first time since decades.  John slides the pliant wolf off his lap and carefully onto the floor, following down before Derek can protest the lack of contact, prodding the young man onto his knees. Spreading the slightly bruised cheeks, John curses his lover for a slut: slickness glistening as Derek's hole winks up at John in greeting. "Damn it, son!" Is all he can manage as he claws his pants open, before sinking into the upturned ass to the hilt. They both pretty much howl from the rush, Derek's voice still partly muffled by the jock-strap he's still sucking on. John drapes himself over the powerful back, ignoring the fists digging into his abdomen, driving his dick into Derek's body as hard as he can eager for their mutual release. Blind with need, he gropes across Derek's body until his hand closes around the length of Derek's dick smearing pre-come on his fingers as he does to jerk the younger man off with an almost painfully tight grip. It doesn't take long for Derek to make a mess of the floor with a sob, slumping into a heap under John all the while making sounds that John, by now, knows mean he wants more. With his lover satisfied, John can let go and seek his own gratification: brace against Derek's hips and ruthlessly fuck himself to completion.  John slumps to the side, cursing the bright idea to fuck on the floor, still seeing stars from the strength of his release. He almost feels lucky that this doesn’t happen every time, or John  would  actually get that heart attack his son was worried about sooner rather than later.  He pulls Derek closer, gently freeing his mouth of the soggy material and kissing the dry lips lazily. 

"I'll get dinner if you uncuff me." The wolf offers against his throat, licking sweat off John's skin. "Uncuff?" He questions trying not to yawn.

"Where is the key, John?" The only reason John doesn’t jump at the growl is: despite the threatening sound, Derek is still warm and pliant against him.

"Station." Being post-orgasmic does wonders for the ability to lie to  a werewolf. Derek's growl rises a notch, until with an amused snort, John kisses the sound away. Only when the wolf if finally kissed into submission, does he push the younger man off to dig into his pocket for his wallet and the spare he's kept in there since Stiles' 'incident' years before.

"You  do  know that I can just break them right?" Derek asks sitting up and turning so John can get at his wrists. 

"Do you really think I would cuff you if I didn't have the keys?" He sits up, swallowing a curse when his back protests, then drags himself up onto the couch wondering if he'll ever be able to sit on it without remembering the way Derek wiggled in his ass under his hand. The wolf follows him, kneeling up to slump into John's lap, to  nuzzle at his midriff. "Thank you." He whispers against John's skin hoarsely. "Thank me?" John leaned down to take another kiss digging his fingers in the young wolf's wrecked hair. "Are you sure it shouldn't be the other way around, son?" The wolf shivers under his hands, and shuffles closer. "Do you have to go?" Derek asks ignoring the original question.

"Stiles texted that he and Scott have a 'thing', since you're here I'm assuming it isn't anything supernatural related?" Because if it is, and he's been left out of the loop  _again_  he and Stiles will be having  _words_ , and as much as he'd hate to do it John would go look for his errant kid and idiot friends. Derek shrugs, "Not that I'm aware of, more like pack bonding." And as many, from the parental perspective, horrifying options that opens up, it doesn't warrant John leaving his hot, young lover when he's asking him to stay. "Shouldn't you be there as well?" Derek doesn't meet his eyes. "I'm not—their pack." He says carefully scraping his cheek across John's chest, and John isn't a complete idiot: he's sheriff after all. "I'm pack? Am I supposed to do—anything?" Chris' warning about the 'STD' stir s in the back of his mind making him uneasy, until Derek starts pulling away. "No, —sorry, forget I said—" He mumbles an apology, and John has no other choice but to drag him back in. "I only asked because I have no idea what I'm doing. That doesn't mean I'm against it. I've never been anyone's 'pack' before, so you might want to give me a break." 

"You don't mind?" The wolf's fingers dig into his thighs, Derek's expression is really going to be the death of John. 

"Just as long as I can remain an old fashion human. I don't think I'm cut out to be a creature of the night, respectively." With a huff of amusement, the wolf relocates onto the actual couch sprawling out with his head in John's lap. "We're a mess." John concludes arousal prickling along his skin at the sight of the muscular body on display. "Yeah." Derek sounds content with it, and John figures they can stay a mess a bit longer, that way he can catch his breath properly, then maybe he can blow Derek in the shower. The wolf huffs, and nuzzles against his abdomen as if he knows what John is thinking. 


	4. Chapter 4

He's been told that wolves can take a lot of damage and shrug it off.

Hadn't expected to see it tested at his own hands.

Derek hanging in chains like a broken doll: skin mottled with rapidly fading bruises, dick standing proud, curving towards the wolf's belly... It's a sight that takes John's breath away.

The wolf should be begging for touch, release, or permission to kneel, unfortunately John knows Derek isn't ready for any of that yet. No matter what he does with the belt, as long as he isn't prepared to use something that breaks skin, actually damages the young man, he isn't going to get the wolf where he needs to be either.

Stopping is what he should be doing: getting Derek to talk about the things he needs before they try anything like this again, and comforting him without in the mean time. Only that doesn't give the wolf what he need _now,_ and John fears that Derek is going to break if he doesn't do something to bleed some of the pressure building in the tones body off.

Dropping the belt, John caresses the almost healed body. He licks the sweat off Derek's skin while whispering that the pup should wait just a little bit longer, that Derek's been a good boy already but that he needs to be patient. He leaves Derek hanging in his chains once the wolf signals his acceptance, goes down the stairs to catch his breath and get a bottle of water out of the fridge.

He doesn't usually find himself in the kitchen, Derek being the better cook out of the two of them allowing  John to stay clear and enjoys the results. Digging around for water and beer, John frowns at the fresh produce wishing there was more meat on offer. A wolf shouldn't be this attached to vegetables! His eye falls on the hand of ginger by accident, a vague memory of the effects the root can have stops him in his tracks considering his options. He takes it out of the fridge almost in a daze, possibilities dancing before his eyes. John wonders how long it will take for a werewolf to start squirming? The application of ginger, will not harm the wolf any, but might just be enough to give Derek what he needs. With the root in hand, water and a small knife he heads back upstairs.

"John?" The wolf asks, curiously sniffing the air, he ignores the question offering the wolf cold water to drink watching his throat work, his teeth itching to bite at not so vulnerable flesh and leave a mark for as long as it will last. "Shhhhh," He murmurs, " I'm going to give you what you need, pup." Taking the bottle away after Derek has had his fill. Running his hands across the body that's as flawless now as before they started, John trails his fingers down Derek's spine and between his cheeks until he's circling the wolf's hole pleased to feel the muscle twitching in welcome against his fingertips. "Close your eyes." He whispers in the wolf's ear, nipping at the lobe teasingly.

He doesn't have to check if Derek does as he's told.

Circling the bound body, John caresses and strokes randomly until Derek is panting and leaking. At the wolf's back again, he kneels spreading lush ass cheeks to lick across the pink orifice that grabs greedily at his tongue. The broken way Derek moans, John could happily spend the evening eating the pup's ass just to hear those sounds again and again.

Only that isn't what Derek needs, not this time. As much as John would love to lick the young man until he faints from pleasure that isn't on the menu for the evening. Keeping the wolf distracted with his mouth, he blindly searches out the root.

Leaving Derek without stimulus for a minute, shivering in his chains in anticipation, John clumsily peeling the skin off the ginger shaping it until it resembles a plug. With a final sloppy lick, he gets up pushing the makeshift plug in instead. Derek's ass tightens around it sucks it in as it does with everything John sees fit to fill him with, the muscle catching on the notch John carved especially for that purpose.

At first nothing happens.

Derek wiggles a little getting the feel of the unfamiliar intrusion, but his ass keeps grabbing around the too thin plug as if hoping it will swell from the motion. John licks the ginger juice off his fingers and feels his tongue start to tingle with the heat of it only moments later. The first confused whimper falls from Derek's lips not long after, his wiggling more pronounced as the inside of his ass starts to burn.  "John?" Derek whimpers, and John watches sweat breaking out all along his body.

"Does it sting, sweetheart?" He asks resting his hands on the wolf's hips to keep him still.

"Yesssss—" Derek hisses confused, his body going tight and the sensation intensifies slowly but steadily. John doesn't have to hear the question to answer it, drawing patterns across Derek's sweaty flanks. "Good. That's what we want, baby. Accept the burn, son, let yourself feel it."

He gently nips at the back of the wolf's throat. Circling the shaking body, John to study the wolf's face twisting in discomfort bordering on agony. The sight makes him give into temptation:  kiss slack, panting lips while running his hands over Derek's dripping dick. John licks his fingers again, tastes Derek combined with the spice of the ginger, leans down to lap at tight nipples and nuzzle matted fur liking the sound it makes catching on the stubble on his cheek. The wolf still isn't quite where he needs to be, but as he licks his lips, his tongue still tingling, a twisted idea has his blood rushing to his dick.

He'd discarded shavings of ginger while cutting, but they are still good enough for what he wants. Picking one up, John takes Derek's dick in hand: caresses the thick, slick flesh, mouthing at the head and teasing the slit with the tip of his tongue until Derek is moaning before pushing the shard in as far as it will go. Breathlessly he steps back and waits for Derek to realizes his predicament, watches as the burning starts in the wolf's dick as well.

John hates himself a little for enjoying the way the young man starts to struggle in his chains trying to get away from the agonizing sensation inside of him front and back. The wolf keeps his eyes closed obediently, even after tears are leaking in a steady stream down his cheeks, despite fighting against the burn with all his might while John strokes himself slowly wondering if he's going to feel it too once he removes the ginger and fucks his dick into the abused hole. It seems to take forever before Derek stops struggling, before he submits to the sensations and the restrains: lets the chains hold him up instead of fighting against them, waiting for whatever comes next.

"John, John—please—" The hiccupping whimpers once they come are almost too soft to make out as words, but then the, "Daddy, please!" Is more than clear. The word has John at the wolf's side in an instant, his hands on the trembling body. "Such a good boy. Does it hurt—,"  He questions,"— son?" nipping at the wolf's bottom lip.

"Yessss! Please, daddy! Make it stop!" The wolf begs, but doesn't complain when John's fingers find the plug and push it deeper. Every time John pushes it deeper, Derek's body shudders and he sobs biting his lip to keep from pleading again giving himself over to John completely.

"You're doing so good, for daddy: so pretty when you cry." He kisses the sobs away, swallows them before Derek can let them escape. "I'm going to make you feel so good now, baby boy."

Unchaining an incoherent wolf takes some doing.

John nearly does his back in getting his lover back to the bed, but it is worth it to see Derek sprawling in the middle of it his legs spread wide. Removing the ginger, John takes his time examining both the red, irritated openings gaping a little from having been held open. "Daddy's going to kiss it better now, son." He whispers against a furry thigh, licking his way into Derek's ass for the second time.

The wolf moans brokenly, and John feels him shift even before he hears claws shredding the sheets as Derek struggles to remain still. He licks the boy open, pushes fingers into the slack opening to stretch it further. He nips at the inflamed rim until Derek is moaning continuously, this time from pleasure, his thighs straining under John's hands to keep from moving.

He humps against the bed like a teenager, almost forgetting his own by now painful arousal in favor of feeling his lover lose his mind under his ministrations. The thought of coming on the sheets, doesn't agree with him, so John forces himself onto his knees. Shuffling further between Derek's legs, he places  the head of his dick against the wolf's swollen hole, until he can jerk himself off into his pretty boy while filling his mouth with his boy's fat dick.

John imagines coming in Derek, then plugging him with the ginger again. Watching Derek suffer the sensations again, crying and struggling but without protest until John feels like taking the evil plug out again to lick his own spicy come from his pup's ass, repeating the process until the wolf is completely out of his mind: John's pretty fucktoy to do with as he pleases.

He comes, taking care to spill himself inside of the slick, tortured opening, makes sure to gather all the stray drops and push them into the wolf's sloppy hole. John fucks Derek with his fingers, nursing on the tip of the wolf's dick until Derek comes in his mouth with a tortured cry. John keeps sucking until there is nothing left, until the wolf goes soft in his mouth and slack against the bed. He'd think that Derek fainted, only being a werewolf that doesn't seem likely.

When John manages to crawl up to collapse beside his lover, the young man finally moves curling up against his side with a sigh. "Thank you, daddy," Derek sighs. John makes a mental note to ask Chris if this means he's going to hell.


	5. Chapter 5

John touches a lot, not just Derek, but everyone: pack, deputies, friends, whoever comes in range really. Hanging out him Derek has had to relearn that not every touch means an invitation for sex: touch can be casual, affectionate without anyone getting naked. He'd forgotten that over the years how it felt to touch just for the sake of touching and not be rebuffed, not to have his guard up in case he was rejected. His first impulse was to pull away, because if he allows himself to get used to John's casual affection it's going to hurt a hell of a lot more when—because, how long can the whole thing last anyway? John will get over the novelty of screwing a fanboy or find someone more his own age who is more appropriate, who doesn't remind him of all the dangers of the dark that aren't thieves or traffic violators. Only so far, John hasn't given any indication of having second thoughts, he's still there even over the packs' (mostly Stiles') objections and Derek's—neediness.

Remembering that it will not last is difficult when John is spending his free afternoon on Derek's couch catching up on reports and his email. He doesn't even object to Derek using him as a headrest while trying to concentrate on a book. Derek had promised himself that he'd behave before John came over, and is failing miserably at keeping the promise: absorbed in his reading John lets his free hand wander, slipping his fingers under the collar of Derek's shirt to trace weird patterns on Derek's chest, and it's driving Derek crazy.

It's one of those casual touches he'd prefer to ignore: affectionate, but unintentionally arousing. He resists initiating anything when they are together, keeps reminding himself that he's an adult and adults do more than fuck when they are together, so just sitting there should be enough. Only, John's fingers circle a nipple: right along the edge of the areola over and over again, the edges of his nails catching randomly on sensitive flesh.

It would be so easy to turn over and nuzzle against the bulge inches from his cheek until John's heart starts to race and he forgets about his reading. His scent would change: turn rich and musky inviting Derek to tug the fly buttons open with his teeth, nose the fabric aside and breathe against John's dick until it's fat and hard until daddy grabs him by the scruff and makes Derek suck him.

Not that he isn't just as happy staying as they are, just enjoying John's company and hoping he won't notice Derek acting like a teenager. He's hard now remembering how John tastes and smells when aroused, the smart thing would probably be to go jerk off in the bathroom. Not that it would help Derek for long with John staying over, but at least he wouldn't be bothering the man until later. John's fingers pluck gently at a tight nipple pinching now and again as if reacting to something he's reading. Derek swallows a groan thinking cold thoughts, glancing up he curses that John seems oblivious to what he's doing, then forces himself to concentrate on the damn book again.

When John is thinking: he fidgets.

It's happened before, and Derek took shameless advantage then as well offering himself up for stroking, petting, and fondling when John's excitement sought an outlet. The edges of John's nails catch on Derek's skin just right, and he almost bites through his bottom lip to keep from whimpering and arching into the touch. He wants to reach down and adjust himself, but John would notice, so Derek resists—it's not like the sensation of the fly buttons digging into his rapidly hardening dick is exactly unpleasant.

The nipple that hasn't been played with aches a little greedy for contact, but Derek can't think of a way to covertly turn so John will be able to reach it. Last time they fucked, John had told Derek nipple clamps seemed fun, and he wouldn't mind seeing Derek wearing a pair. He had come with John's assurance that he'd look so pretty coming riding John's dick with nipples aching in the jaws of pretty silver clamps or with just John's hands on him pinching and twisting until his teats are swollen and sore. John's strong, work-roughened hands, confident on Derek's flesh despite his newness to the rougher play giving Derek exactly what he needs. Testing how good Derek can be for daddy, and rewarding him for it.

Shifting, Derek takes a deep breath holds John's scent in his lungs, imagines John noticing his hard-on, and telling Derek not to touch himself. Telling Derek that he must _not_ come, stay hard for daddy. John wouldn't stop touching, he would keep petting Derek and playing with his nipples keeping him squirming and fighting to keep control until everything becomes almost too much and he has to beg for a breather— "That must be some book." John's voice startles Derek out of his fantasy, if it wasn't for John's hold on him, Derek would have fallen off the couch. Cursing himself, he blushes looking down to see a wet spot on his crotch. "Shit! Sorry, I'll go—" Like he's still a pup who can't control himself.

"I'd prefer you tell me what you are reading." John drags his hand out of Derek's shirt to wrap it lightly around Derek's throat. That just makes it harder for Derek to control himself. "I don't want to distract you!" Derek protests, because John has a lot of responsibility and if he is distracted, John will have to spend even more of his precious free time to catch up.

"Son, if I didn't want to be distracted, I'd have gone to the office," John tells him with amusement, leaning down to drop a peck on Derek's lips. "Now, tell me!" He orders, tightening his hold on Derek's throat for emphasis. "I wasn't reading." Derek gasps, arching into the touch and unable to meet John's eyes. "I was thinking about you." The embarrassing admission isn't met with laughter, something Derek is very grateful for, but he still can't help blushing.

"Really? Anything good?" John asks, throwing the files he'd been working through on the coffee table, and pulling Derek closer. "Just thinking. I like your hands." Derek tries to deflect, not that he expects John to buy it. The man hums in encouragement, rubbing Derek's shoulders and clearly waiting. "I like your hands on me." As soon as he says it, John's hands tug Derek's shirt up to caress bare skin. "You know I like it when you tell me what to do." Derek gasps, when both his nipples are gently flicked. "I have noticed, yes," John tells him with a grin, as he trails his hands down Derek's body, scratching around his navel.

"I was thinking about you telling me not to come." John's hand cups him, rub along the button fly deliberately pushing the bits of metal against Derek's swollen flesh. "I'd have to stay hard, and not come until—" He shudders when John squeezes a little too hard, and Derek has to fight to keep from coming in his pants. "Until what, baby boy?" John demands stepping up the teasing, assuming that Derek will answer promptly despite fighting for the last shred of self-control. "Until you decide I'm allowed to."

Hours later, maybe longer, Derek has never thought about it, but suddenly 'longer' doesn't strike him as a bad thing—not in _John's_ hands. Before he can share this revelation, John's hands are on his nipples pinching both hard enough to make Derek squirm and gasp. "So, you were thinking about me keeping you hard, and dripping for my entertainment, huh? Did you think about me fucking you, and not letting you come as well?" Derek hasn't yet, but as soon as John says it, he can see himself wrecked, begging and being denied. John could tie him to the bed: arms above his head, legs spread wide, his hole stretched and ready—John could leave him like that between fucks, maybe replacing his dick with a fat plug every time he pulls out leaving Derek plugged and with a belly full of come as he waits while John goes about his day. Derek tells John all of that, runs his mouth between groans and gasps as John keeps on petting and pinching. Until Derek is almost shaking with the need to unbutton his jeans and give his dick some room, instead he claws at the seat of the couch because the need to be good for John, for daddy is greater.

As if reading his mind, John gathers Derek's wrists guiding them up over Derek's head to lie against the couch arm. "Keep them there." He orders, voice thick with arousal as he manhandles Derek into a more convenient position. Hiking Derek's shirt up again, John exposing the wolf's abdomen and chest examining Derek's tight nipples carefully pulling and rolling the tight nubs. "We should try all of that sometime, maybe when we have the whole weekend free. I'd keep you cuffed to the bed, or lay you out on this coffee table all spread out for me to play with, put a pretty green cock ring on you and one of those vibes in your hungry ass so I can listen to my baby boy moaning all day." He scratches Derek's abdomen tracing the well-defined muscles above the waist of the wolf's jeans ignoring the large bulge right below to his hand even when Derek's hips thrust into the air looking for contact.

Tangles his fingers in Derek's hair, John forces his head back to take a kiss. He makes love to Derek's mouth soft and gentle, wrecking him without even trying. "Maybe I won't even fuck you, just feed you my dick every time I feel like it. Fuck your mouth, push all the way into your throat until I feel you choking around me, make you wait for every breath until all you can't think about anything but my dick down your throat." Derek can smell John's arousal, can feel it against the back of his neck straining against John's pants. He wants to turn and bury his face in John's crotch, make what John is describing come true. "I love your mouth sweetheart," John tells him, "Hottest I've ever felt, so tight and wet for me. I love how you moan for more even when I fuck your throat rough." His fingers trace Derek's lips, and he can't resist licking at the tips trying to entice them to push in. "I dream of your mouth, wake up in the morning missing you next to me." Derek moans, but can't quit get out that he misses John too. "Maybe we should take a holiday sometime? A nice house somewhere quiet, no idea what the hell we'd be doing, but at least I would have you all to myself for a couple of days." Derek can think of several activities without even trying. The thought of having John to himself is almost enough to make him come all on its own. "Like that idea, huh?" John smirks, "Good thing I'll be getting time off soon." His hand moves down, tugging on the fur on Derek's belly leaving a smarting trail in their wake.

"Take your dick out." He orders and Derek sighs with relief. His hands shake as he fights the buttons almost ripping his jeans in his haste to free his aching flesh. He moans in relief as cool air hits hard flesh, it won't take a lot for him to come now: just a few strokes and— "No." John catches his wrists pulling them away before John can get even one stroke in. "I don't think you need that." Once he's sure Derek won't try again, John's fingers trace the edges of Derek's fly plucking at the buttons, teasing with the promise of touch that never quite comes until Derek whimpers.

The scent of their arousal, along with the teasing has him on edge, barely keeping from losing control. "Such a good boy." John husks, bending down to drop kisses on Derek's lips and cheeks distracting the wolf from what his hands are doing until he feels fabric tightening around his dick. As Derek looks on, John fastens another button tightening the makeshift cock ring further. His dick looks obscene sticking red and wet out between shiny buttons. "You look pretty like this. Stand up, so I can get a better look at you." Derek wonders if his legs will even carry him, but it's not like he's going to disappoint John. Locking his knees, his shuffles over as John waves him into place: right at John's side, within easy reach. "Keep that shirt up, I want to see those tasty tits of yours." He shudders, feeling dirty and exposed, but at the same time pleased that John likes looking at him.

"Such a beautiful boy I have." John muses sitting back to take in the sight. "Love the look of you, the feel of you." He continues, spreading his legs to give Derek a better view of the bulge of his crotch. "Love the taste of you too!" He licks his lips. "Do you like daddy tasting you, son?" He shifts his weight, and Derek can feel John's breath on his overheated dick. He isn't sure if he's allowed to beg, he wants to: wants to beg for John's dick, for his hands and mouth. John had gotten quite good at sucking cock since he'd been introduced to the giving end of it. The sheriff had taken to it with enthusiasm, driving Derek half insane 'practicing' his new skill.

"Daddy—" He forces past his teeth, ready to fall to his knees and whine. "Use your words, son." John reminds him, hand casually falling off the armrest to trace the inseam of Derek's jeans. "Be a good boy for me, and ask politely for permission to fuck daddy's mouth." Derek's brain short circuits and he's left swaying in the breeze conflicting impulses leaving him helpless and tongue-tied. The only sound that leaves his mouth is a reedy sort of whimper that makes him blush and shake under John's calm, expectant gaze. "Tell me how much you need it."

It feels like ages before Derek manages to gather enough self-control to try for words, not looking down at John, _at John's mouth_ , helps. "Please—" He moans, his hips twitching forwards desperately. "None of that, son," John warns him with a sharp tap to his dick making the dripping flesh swing obscenely. "Words!" Derek is reminded like he could forget.

"Please, may I—" He shivers as John's hand cups the back of his knee pulling him closer so that Derek can lean against the armrest a little, then wanders up to squeeze Derek's ass in encouragement. "May I please—" Derek gulps feeling like an awkward teenager again. "May I please f—fuck your mouth, please—daddy?" His hips thrusting as if he's gotten permission already.

"That's my polite boy." John smiles up at him, and Derek has to fight not to drop to his knees in supplication. John makes it so easy for Derek to let go of everything outside of the two of them and enjoy himself. "Please, daddy—please let me, I'll be careful and—" He bites his lip unsure how to ask so John will let him, how to keep from being  bad and fucking the air like a—"I know you will, son. You're going to show daddy what a good boy you are and fuck daddy's throat as slow as you can, let daddy really enjoy your dick." He's pulled closer until he is leaning on the arm rest and John is less than an inch away, his mouth open in invitation. "Be good for daddy, son." John mouths against the head of Derek's dick, so with a whimper he takes it as permission to aim his dick at the open mouth humping John's face until he finally manages to work the tip inside the moist cavern.  John hums in encouragement, and Derek pushes a bit deeper as slow as he can manage thinking of icebergs and hunters, anything to keep himself from coming on the spot.

If John wants his throat fucked, Derek is going to do it even if it kills him, because he wants to be good for daddy. John's tongue teases at the head of his dick, inviting him deeper, ordering Derek to do as he's told. The world narrows to just the two of them: John's mouth and Derek's painfully hard dick, wave after wave of pleasure crashing against Derek's resolve to be good for daddy. It even works for a little while at least: until Derek chances looking down to see his spit glistening dick disappearing between John's swollen lips, and loses the fight to keep control of himself.

Fur and fangs sprout without permission as Derek whimpers helplessly, fully expecting to be pushes away. His hips pump faster despite orders, desperation to come before he's pushed away destroying common sense. John groans, his hand tightening on Derek's leg hard enough to bruise if he wasn't a wolf, then roughly gropes his way up to squeeze Derek's ass through the denim pulling him closer until Derek is fucking John's throat like a dog in heat, his balls aching trapped cruelly between the buttons, slapping John's chin with every thrust. Derek digs his claws in his hair to keep from reaching down and—John moans around him hungry and encouraging and Derek is roaring his release for all to hear slumping in a heap over the armrest and half in John's lap as if his strings were cut.

He hears a grunt of protest, but can't do anything about it with his body a weak mess. Derek doesn't even know how he ends up on his back with John crouching over him, rumpled and smeared in come, rubbing Derek's belly like he's a pup—"Good boy." John rasps, his voice low and scratchy, the sound has Derek's dick twitching which John notices. With an evil grin, he wraps his hand around Derek's exhausted flesh stroking roughly until Derek is a whimpering mess. "You did so good for daddy, son." John leans down, nips at Derek's bottom lip and rubs their cheeks together making a mess of Derek as well. "Good enough for a reward I think, or should you be punished instead for not asking permission?" John keeps stroking and fondling, almost too painful for the touch to be good—but at the same time, it makes Derek feel owned in a way he's not experienced for far too long. Just for that, he'd be willing to suffer far more than the just this side of rough possessive touch, the questions barely registering in his overloaded brain.

"Would you like a rest first, pup?" John's touch gentles, but doesn't disappear as John sits back and Derek remembers that his daddy hasn't come yet and that he did without permission no less. "Don't you want—?" He manages to raise a hand and sort of wave in the general direction of John's still hard dick. "It can wait." John decides, releasing Derek's dick to tug at his shirt that's still bunched under the wolf's arms. "Let's get my good boy comfortable first." Derek bites his lip to keep from whining at the loss of John's touch.

Naked, Derek ends up draped across John's chest, their legs tangled together caught between the need to sleep and to please. "Sorry." He mumbles, nuzzling at John's throat and jaw in contrition. "I shouldn't have—" Not that John smells upset or disappointed, just horny and self-satisfied. "That's not up to you to decide." Daddy reminds him, and Derek squirms some more unsure how to bring up that because between distracting John from his paperwork, and coming without permission—he needs to be punished. "Please, daddy?" He whispers against John's throat, moaning in relief when John's hand in his hair tightens forcing him to look up.

John studies him wordlessly for a long moment as Derek tries to keep still and ignore the tried come flaking off John's skin. He wants to lick John clean, in fact, wants to lick him all over to show just how good he can be. "And here I thought what you needed was a nap." John huffs, drawing Derek's attention to his mouth again. "But I guess you need something else instead." He bends his knee until Derek has to set up a little so his dick doesn't get crushed between them, but daddy's hand on his ass pushes him back down again. "I loved watching you come, baby boy. So you're going to do it again for me." He presses a finger to Derek's lips before the wolf can protest, rocking his thigh against Derek's ass. "You're going to rub yourself against my leg." John's voice takes a dark tone, his fingers finding Derek's hole while he speaks. "I know you're not ready yet, and still a little sore—but you want to make daddy happy, don't you?" Derek curses sinking down until his tender dick makes contact with the rough denim of John's jeans. "That's not nice, pup." John taps him on the nose and pinches a nipple, making Derek curse again as he drags his dick along John's thigh. He fights to keep himself in check, but falling into beta form again is easy curled around his daddy, panting into the crook of John's neck. The drag of denim hurts just right, John's hands on his back gentle and encouraging as he moans every time Derek's thigh presses against his crotch.

Between the pain and affection, Derek is hard and aching despite earlier release, the denim under him soaked with sweat and pre-come sticking to John's leg leaving Derek moaning at the thought of going to his knees to clean daddy's jeans with his tongue. "That's it, sweetheart." John encourages, rubbing his fingers around Derek's hole, barely pressing inside every time Derek pushes back against them. "Such a good boy for daddy, my beautify boy working so hard to make daddy feel good." He tugs on Derek's hair until the wolf raises his head enough for a kiss. "You're beautiful, pup, my beautiful boy." He keeps up the praise between kisses, gently winding Derek into riding harder, into losing control again and shredding the couch as the claws come out.

He comes all over daddy's jeans, soaking the denim with a tortured cry slumping in a heap fully convinced that he's never going to move again. John curses under him, shoving a hand between them rubbing himself with desperation. Derek feels him go stiff under him, the smells of release and annoyance enveloping them. "I can't believe you made me come in pants, pup."John groans once he catches his breath. "And don't you dare apologize!" He adds, finding Derek's mouth by touch and pushing his thumb in before the wolf can get a word out. Since John doesn't smell upset, so Derek figures no response is needed. John doesn't make any kind of effort to get up to get cleaned, so Derek closes his eyes and to enjoy the afterglow.               


	6. Timestamp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry smut free  
> smut may be added later

"So, should I have gotten you a card or something?" Derek asks, draping himself over John's back. The words don't make sense, and a hot, half naked werewolf is too damn distracting for John to give it any thought.

"What?" John kind of wishes he'd had that second cup of coffee.

Derek nips at the lobe of his ear, straightens up and tosses the mail onto the table.

On top, there is an envelope with the address in Stiles' messy scrawl. Inside is a square card proclaiming 'You are top of the pops' and a short message 'Thanks, dad' with a smiley face inside. Suddenly, Derek's question makes a horrible sort of sense. 

"Seriously?!" He groans, horrified and still, perversely, a little aroused. Derek just grins, bending over unnecessary to explore the contents of the fridge.

"I can't believe you!" The problem with werewolves, John thinks, is that threatening doesn't work. Anything John would be willing to threaten, Derek would probably like.

"Sorry?" Sandwich in hand, Derek wanders back leaning against the table conveniently in arm's reach.

"No, you're not," John huffs, but still reaches over to rub Derek's flank.

"No, I don't," traumatized or not, John likes the fact that the wolf has been smiling more lately, if only in private. Swallowing the last bite of his breakfast, the wolf nudges John's knee with his leg, "want me to make it up to you?" 

**Author's Note:**

> Turns out I can't write a PG13 fic for love or money...


End file.
